


Truth or Dare

by TheChozo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Blow Jobs, Drinking, Drinking Games, Dubious Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Extreme Pining, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Sex in/on the Impala (Supernatural), Smut, Truth or Dare, canon adjacent, extreme tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:20:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28975014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheChozo/pseuds/TheChozo
Summary: Dean wants Cas to play truth or dare with him.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 14
Kudos: 98





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm high enough to post this.

Dean wasn’t sure if he’ll ever get used to angel crap.  
Cas appearing out of the blue certainly wasn’t one of them, but at least now he was used to it enough that he didn’t jump out of his skin when he saw Cas standing in the middle of their motel room.  
That didn’t stop him from nearly spilling his beer he was nursing on himself as Cas appeared in the corner of his eye.  
“Jesus-”  
Cas looked at him with uncaring eyes. “Hello, Dean.”  
“Hey, Cas,” Dean said, putting his beer on the nightstand. He willed his heart rate to go back to normal, well as normal as it could be without the alcohol pumping through his system. But Dean was only three beers in, with his experience he knew it probably wasn’t that much higher.  
“I see you got our message,” Dean said, putting his laptop aside.  
“Yes,” Cas said, scanning the motel room. “But I don’t understand why you need my help. Is there something wrong? Did you find Jesse?”  
“No, nothing like that.” Dean didn’t even want to think about the little antichrist and how badly they almost fucked up with him. Lying, going to his mom, telling her where he was wasn’t the smartest move. Cas didn’t fair any better. Frankly, Dean thought it was lucky they were all alive after he saw what the kid could do. They had had too many close calls, too many to count and Dean suspected with the coming apocalypse, the number wasn’t going to start decreasing.  
Dean got up from the bed, suddenly at a loss for what to say, forgetting why they even invited Cas over in the first place.  
“Uh,” he started with. “How are you feeling?”  
Dean felt Cas’s eyes roving over him, searching for hidden meaning. “I’m… fine. Considering the circumstances.”  
Before he could stop it, a chuckle came from Dean. “Yeah. I don’t suspect anyone would like getting turned into G.I. Joe from Rosemary’s baby.”  
“Did you find the Colt?”  
“No, not yet-”  
“Then I don’t understand your summonings.”  
“What? No, it’s not. I mean-” Dean gave up trying to explain himself and pushed past Cas to the mini fridge sitting under the tv. He pulled out a beer, turned and held it out, expectedly at Cas.  
Cas took it after a second, tentative. His eyes go from the beer to Dean. “What do you want me to do with this?”  
“Drink it, Cas. Boys night in! What do you say?”  
Cas looked back at the beer, quizzically, using both of his hands as if he expected the can to magically hop away.  
“Boys night…” Cas said.  
“Yeah…” Dean said, doubt creeping in as the awkwardness of the night was suddenly making an appearance to him. God, why did he even think of this idea? “A little get together. You, me, Sam, booze. Maybe watch a little West coast football. Waddya say?”  
Dean didn’t expect Cas to say yes. Hell, he didn’t even think Cas would come tonight let alone hang out with the people that turned Cas’ world upside down. Didn’t he have heavenly shit to do?  
Cas still wasn’t answering, so Dean went back to the nightstand and took a sip of his own beer.  
“Where’s Sam?” Cas said.  
“Beer run. But we got some heavy stuff in the trunk if you’re interested.”  
“Heavy stuff?”  
“Shots. Tequila.” Dean paused. “You ever got smashed before?”  
“No, I can’t say I have,” Cas said, looking at the nutritional facts on the side of the can. “Besides all the affects of alcohol uh… ‘don’t do it for me’ as you say.”  
“Well, let’s test the theory a little bit, don’t you think?” Dean smiled, taking another sip. The beer was losing its chill, the carbonation wasn’t attacking his tongue as strong as when he opened it. Dean wished Sam would be back soon. He was almost halfway done.  
Cas looked at him curiously. “I don’t understand. What do you require of me?”  
“Uh. I require you to drink that beer,” Dean said as he sat at the corner of the bed. “Come on, sit down. I want to know what a beer tastes like to an alcohol virgin.”  
For a second it looked like Cas was going to protest, but then his mouth closed. He slid out the desk chair and sat across from Dean a little too close for Dean’s comfort, their knees centimeters away. Dean let it slide, for now.  
Cas looked at the beer then at Dean.  
“Here-“ Dean set his beer between his knees and took the can from Cas’ hands. “You pull the tab like this.”  
With a sharp, metallic snap he cracked open a cold one and handed it to Cas. Cas still took it gingerly. When Cas didn’t drink, Deran raised his own beer to his lips, and finally, Cas echoed his movement.  
“So?” Dean asked when Cas swallowed. “What do you think? You in?”  
“It tastes like molecules.”  
Even though it wasn’t funny, Dean had to laugh. “I’ve drank worse things than that, compadre. But, uh, thanks for your honesty.”  
“Dean, what am I doing here.”  
“Because… we’re friends, duh.”  
Cas considered him a moment before playing along. “Right.”  
It’s not like they weren’t friends before. But they never officially “hung out”.  
Dean realized this when he (again) almost lost Cas that day. Cas already died once this year, and once was enough.  
So what if Dean was the reason for Sam going on a beer run. It’s not like he can drink alone tonight. The uselessness against the onslaught of the apocolaypse might be wearing on him, but right now, he just wanted a fucking break. Maybe he had more than three beers. He had been sober as soon as Sam went off. Somehow, this run-of-mill demon drama this week, somehow he was craving something more tonight.  
“Cas, this is what we humans call ‘asking you to prom’.”  
“What?”  
“We want to hang out with you, dumbass. Stick around, enjoy a beer… talk a little. I just thought we could-“  
“Explore each other’s emotional bonds with each other.”  
“Well, jeez, Cas, when you put it like that. Why can’t you get drunk?”  
“My tolérance level can’t compare to the mind of mortals.”  
“Well, okay then,” Dean said. “Then in that case, lets test that theory.”  
“What?”  
“I wanna see if I can out drink an angel.”  
“Dean, I wouldn’t recommend that.”  
“What, you chicken? How do you know your tolerance level if you’ve never tested it?”  
“My grace takes care of all my vessels automatic functions.”  
Dean raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, okay. Sounds like you’re scared.”  
“No, it’s just that you’d be at a disadvantage.”  
Dean blinks at Cas, a smile tugging on his lips. “Is that so? Ooh, I know, we should play a drinking game.”  
“A game where you… drink?”  
“Yeah uh, like Never Have I Ever, Truth or Dare-“  
“Go fish?”  
“I mean,” he laughs towards Cas. “Anything can be turned into a drinking game, but I think I’d rather stick to Truth or Dare.”  
“How do you play?” Cas asked. Dean was surprised. He didn’t expect the angel would want to stay.  
“Uh simple, you have to choose between telling the truth or doing what I tell you.”  
Dean had had seven dreams the past few weeks about exactly that, but he willed his brain not to think about it.  
“And if I don’t?” Cas’s eyes locked with Dean and for a moment, Dean can’t breathe. He suppressed a shiver and moved on like nothing happened.  
Dean grinned. “Then you have to drink. Hold on.”  
Dean kicked in the motel bedroom a bottle of tequila, salt, and three shotglasses. “Let’s make this more interesting. Every time you don’t answer a question, or doesn’t do the dare has to take one of these.”  
“And this is a common bond strengthening that’s been shared for millennia between man?”  
Dean shrugged with the bottle of tequila in his hand. “Pretty much.”  
“Well, frankly, I don’t know what I expected.”  
“You mean you have no idea what humans do in their freetime?”  
“It never piqued my interest until now, no.”  
“You’re interested now?”  
“You could say that.”  
Dean felt Cas’ eyes as he sat down, laying his supplies on the bed. He didn’t ask what Cas could mean.  
“Alright Cas, truth or dare.”  
“I pick one?”  
“Yep.”  
“...Dare.”  
Surprised, Dean smiled. “Ooh, you’re going to regret that. Take a shot.”  
Cas blinked at him. “Right now?”  
“No, next Tuesday. Yes, right now, it’s truth or dare, man.”  
“Okay.”  
Dean rolled his eyes. “Here, I’ll teach you,” he said, putting his beer on the floor.  
Dean made him hold up a shot glass while he filled it, the tequila’s pungent aroma reaching his nose. He then took it and made Cas hold another. He then licked the back of his hand and, ignoring Cas’ confused expression, poured salt on his wet hand.  
“Wish we had limes, but this will do.”  
Without being told, Cas copied him, tongue quickly darting in and out of his mouth, marking the back of his hand. Dean salted his hand and said: “Lick the salt then take the shot.”  
“Why?”  
“It’ll make it taste better.”  
“Oh. Why are you taking one too? It was my dare.”  
“Can’t let a man take his first shot alone.”  
“Is that another human ritual?”  
“No, but it should be. Works for all parties involved.” Dean hold up his shot glass. “Cheers, man.”  
Thankfully, Cas knew how to cheers. He had taught him that at the brothel Dean had taken him to. Cas had learned a lot that night, more than Dean thought, évédent of the fact that Cas knew how to take a shot. One swallow, all going to the back of the throat, just like Dean did it. Dean watched Cas’ Adam’s apple bob up and down just as the burn at the back of his throat spread into a warm feeling in his stomach. Should’ve ate something today…  
It was no sooner than Cas swallowed, he broke into a fit of coughing.  
“Whoa, you okay?” Dean laughed, clapping his friends’ shoulder. “How’d that go?”  
“It’s disgusting.”  
“Yeah, well, we don’t drink it for the taste.”  
“Even if I did have human habits, I don’t know how that would be worth it.”  
“So, you don’t feel anything?”  
Cas sat up straight after the coughing. He frowned and looked down at his shot glass.  
“No. But… there may be a point where my system can be overloaded… then I might feel something.”  
“So drink enough and you might get a buzz?”  
“Possibly.”  
“Hell, I’ll take it. We’ll get you feeling good by the end of the night.” The shot he just took winked at Cas.  
The corner of Cas’ mouth twitched. Dean wanted to see the whole smile.  
“You’re drunk already Dean. I don’t understand, I thought we were waiting for Sam.”  
“Yeah, we are. We’ll just have a head start. Sam will have to catch up. We’ll get him with a good dare. But in the meantime, let’s see what you got. Ask me.”  
“...Truth or dare?”  
“Dare,” Dean declared.  
“...I dare you… to take a shot.”  
“What, come on you can’t repeat dares!”  
“You didn’t tell me this before.”  
“Well, I thought you had a little imagination, Cas. You want to make them do something they wouldn’t normally do. Eat a spoonful of mayonnaise, streak naked through the parking lot. That sort of stuff.”  
“Oh.” Cas’s eyes look around the room for inspiration.  
“Take a shot… with no salt.”  
Dean gave him a look. “Seriously? Are you trying to get me drunk?”  
“I want to see what it looks like.”  
“What, being drunk?”  
Cas nodded.  
“You’ve seen me drunk before, Cas.”  
“I think that was a different blood alcohol than what you’re at now.”  
“You can tell my blood alcohol level?”  
“Well, not exactly. But I can take a pretty good guess.”  
Can you now? He wanted to say, but didn’t, because reasons.  
“Fine. I’ll take a shot. But only for you to realize what you’re missing as a human.”  
“I’ll study closely.”  
Dean lifted his eyes to where he was filling the shot. Was Cas flirting with him? Maybe he was, maybe he wasn’t, but he couldn’t disguise the ease he felt when he was around Cas, especially, now, letting his guard down with this stupid game and the drink running through his veins.  
“Cheers to you, the biggest douchebag in all of holy heaven.”  
Dean knocked it back, the tequila going down easier than the first one, despite the lack of salt distracting his tongue from the taste. That was a bad sign. Then he found Cas’ eyes. No. This was a good sign.  
“If this is all we’re doing with the dares, I’ll just pick truth instead.”  
“I thought the point of the game was getting drunk.”  
“I didn’t know you would go for maximum damage.” He had to get back at him now. “Truth or Dare?”  
“Dare.”  
Again, a surpriser.  
“I dare you to bring me top-shelf tequila. And you have to drink the whole bottle by the end of the night.”  
After a pointed stare, Cas disappeared in a woosh of wind and reappeared a moment later, holding a very big, very expensive bottle of tequila.  
Dean laughs. “Nice. Much better than my $12 shit.”  
Cas shifts the bottle into both of his hands.  
They both speak at the same time.  
“Do you want to-“  
“Can I have a -“  
“Try it?”  
“Taste?”  
They both look up at each other from the bottle. Dean got caught in Cas’ stare, absentmindedly licking his bottom lip. Cas eyes the movement.  
“Are you sure?”  
“Yeah, I’ll make it a little easier for you.”  
Dean took the bottle out of Cas’ hands and poured another shot for him and Cas. Dean started to think he was enjoying himself because the warm feeling in his gut steadily spread up his chest and into the back of his head.  
Cas was his bar: holding up the two shotglasses while it took Dean two hands to pour the bottle. Deans fingers brushed Cas’ when he took his glass. This is was his third shot in ten minutes.  
Cas and Dean clinked their glasses together, but Dean couldn’t think about anything to cheers to.  
“To the end of a very long year.”  
“Dean, it’s October.”  
“Ain’t too soon to start celebrating.”  
Dean’s shot went dutifully down the hatch, but he couldn’t help but make a face when he resurfaced. Cas shot his down a moment later.  
“Truth or dare?” Cas said.  
“Truth,” he relented. His vision was swimming. It was a nice feeling.  
“I assume this part of the game also ends in humiliation for the players?”  
“You got it.”  
“...When was the last time-”  
Here it comes.  
“-you were happy?”  
Oh. That certainly wasn’t what he was expecting.  
“Come on, man, you can’t ask that.”  
“Why not? If you don’t, you’ll have to take a shot.”  
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. I said a drink. It doesn’t have to be a shot.”  
“I thought you said you could outdrink me. You also said I could ask anything I want. Are you sure you know how to play this game?” Cas’ eyes focused on Dean. “Answer the question.”  
“I don’t know. When we found James Dean’s car, that was pretty gnarly.” Right now was a close second though. “Why’d you go all deep all the sudden?”  
“I just… wanted to know. I’m sorry if I broke another rule.”  
“No, you didn’t it’s just- No one’s ever asked me if- In the game- It’s usually how many girls you’ve been with or how many drugs you’ve taken. Not any Dr. Phil crap.”  
“So the question worked? It made you uncomfortable anyway?”  
“No, I guess it’s just…pretty surprising hearing that talk from you.”  
“I’m just trying to understand what I rebelled for.”  
“What did you rebel for?” Dean asked.  
“Dean. I didn’t pick truth.”  
Dean had to stop himself before he swayed too far in Cas’ direction. He covered it up with an easy smile and a little laugh. “Oh, so it’s your turn now. I didn’t know you’d like this game so much. Dare then. Okay.” He took a pensive little sip of his beer. “I dare you to pick truth next term.”  
“You’d waste your turn on that? That can’t possibly be legal.”  
“There’s something you don’t want me to ask, Cas?”  
“I’m just making sure the game is fair.”  
“Uh-huh.”  
“Truth or Dare, Dean.”  
Oh, what the hell. “Truth.”  
“How many sexual encounters encounters have you had before?”  
Dean cracked a smile. “Can’t say I’ve kept track. You’d be the first angel I’ve...that um, ever asked me that.”  
“What do you think a rough estimate would be?”  
“Why are you so keen to know?”  
“It was one of your suggestions, Dean.”  
“16.”  
Cas only nodded to that information. “I see.” Cas looked down to where he was holding his beer and shot glass in both of his hands. “What did you want to ask me?”  
So many things. Why did you pull me out of heaven? What’s it like being an angel? How many sexual encounters have you had? But what came out was: “Why’d you agree to play?”  
“What do you mean?”  
“It’s a stupid game, why are you playing with me?”  
Cas studied him for a moment before tilting his shot glass towards Dean.  
It took a moment for Dean’s alcohol filled brain to catch up.  
“What-? Seriously? You’d rather drink than answer that?”  
“It’s not like it’lll affect me.”  
“Yeah, yeah, alright, hotshot.”  
As Dean was filling up his shot, a question burned inside Dean’s body, heating him up from the inside. Why didn’t Cas answer? Dean felt his ears turn pink as he looked up at Cas- and was met with the most startling, electric-blue stare that made Dean overfill the shot glass, spilling clear liquid all over the angels lap.  
“Shit.” Dean set down the bottle and pressed the sleeves of his jacket to Cas’ pants before he knew what he was doing. Cas’ legs were warm to the touch.  
“It’s alright, Dean,” Cas said, but he didn’t try to push him away.  
“I’ll get you a towel-”  
“Dean-” Cas’ hand snaked out and caught the wrist of Dean’s. Dean stopped getting up, breathless.  
“Truth or Dare,” Cas asked him. Dean sank back against the bed. He realized he didn’t want Cas to let go.  
“Whoa, there, Speed Racer. You got to finish your shot.”  
Never taking his eyes off of Dean, Cas took two swallows of tequila. The hand that held the shot glass pressed against the back of Cas’ mouth to get stray drops of moisture, but he still didn’t let go of Dean.  
“Look at you, big boy.” Dean smiled. “Do you feel anything yet?”  
“Maybe,” Cas said. He looked at his own thumb brush against the edge of Dean’s jacket. “There’s something.” Cas’ eyes raked slowly up, finally stopping when meeting Dean’s. “Truth or Dare,” he said, deadpan and deep.  
For some reason Dean felt that Cas wanted him to pick dare. “Truth,” he said defiantly.  
“Why are you addicted to alcohol?”  
Dean felt his blood run cold. He thought a minute, sucking on his lips. “Why wouldn’t I be? You saw me in hell.”  
“Do you still get nightmares?”  
Dean laughed nervously. “Hey, buddy, one question at a time.” He took a sip of beer, pulling back his hand. He had let that gone on long enough. But, damn, that tequila was getting to him. “Every damn night,” Dean said quietly. He avoided Cas’ gaze. After a moment, he said: “Truth or Dare?”  
“Truth.”  
“Angel, you never fail to surprise me.”  
Cas raised a tortuous eyebrow.  
“What’s your addiction, Cas?” he heard himself say.  
Cas looked down at his own hand, fingers curling around the absence of Dean’s.  
Cas was silent for a long moment.  
You, Dean wanted him to say.  
“Humanity,” Cas answered.  
“Seriously? Come on, man. What’s so great about mankind? We fight, we kill. We drink.”  
“I don’t think you give yourselves enough credit, Dean,” Cas said, pinning him with his stare. Dean didn’t realize how close they were until he felt Cas’ baritone, deep inside his chest. Dean wanted to close his eyes and take all of the moment in. Cas’ eyes, that feeling in his gut, the simple knowledge that he knew he was getting closer and closer to Cas.  
“You… find joy in the darkest of times, you love, you… play games. Even though it’s the end of the world.”  
Dean felt himself swallow. They stared at each other, both of them breathless.  
“Cas,” he said, barely a whisper. “Ask me.”  
Dean looked at his friends’ hair and wanted to run his hand through it.  
“Truth or dare?” Cas asked. Dean couldn’t move.  
“Dare,” Dean breathed.  
“Kiss me.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what they say: write high, edit higher, and find out you posted the damn thing the next day.

Dean wasn’t going to do it. Really, he wasn’t. He was going to take the shot.

This ran through his mind when Castiel’s breath hit his lips, but he never got to fully close the distance. The scratching of keys made Dean spring back with enough force to almost tip him over.

“HEy!” Dean said, squeakily, recovering while his brother appeared in the doorway. 

“Cas, you made it!” Sam said with a smile. He stepped into the room with a bag of food and a case of beer.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Dean put his hand out. “Where’s the other one?” He looked at the case of beer, trying to distract himself from what had- what  _ almost  _ had happened.

“One’s enough, Dean. Besides,” Sam hefted the case onto the bed, near Dean. “They’re IPA’s.” Sam frowned at the tequila. “Where’d you get that?”

“Cas got it for us!” Dean replied too joyfully. He cleared his throat, trying to regain control of himself. He spared a glace at Cas, who’s eyes were downcast.

“Cas, you drink?”

“Yes,” Cas said. “Your brother foolishly challenged me to a drinking contest and a game of Truth or Dare, even after I informed him I cannot become inebriated.”

“Truth or Dare?” Sam laughed. “What are you, 12? What’d you make him do?” he asked Cas.

Cas was silent for a moment before Dean decided to step in. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.” He tilted back his beer, the last dregs of it at the bottom. Dean nearly lost his balance. He tilted his head forward so he wouldn’t fall back.

“Are you sure about that? How much did you drink?”

“It’s Cas’ fault.”

“Really? What did Cas dare you?”

“Well, seeing that he has no imagination, he ordered shots.” He spread his arms. “And here I am now.” Dean hopes the drunkenness hides the pink in his face.

“Great, well. It looks like I need to catch up. Uh, starting with that,” Sam said at the big bottle of tequila. “Where did you get it?”

“One of my ideas” Dean said. “Sweet, right? Wanna keep playing with us, Sammy?”

“Yeah, after you fill me up. Truth or Dare, I can’t believe it.”

Dean couldn’t remember most of the night after that. He knew they must of kept playing because the only thing he remember was the sharp feeling of pen against his skin and the bark of Sam’s laughter. 

Dean dreams things that aren’t kosher. The next morning, he blames it on the drink.

But he doesn’t think the alcohol made him remember aspects of the dream. In there, Sam didn’t come back to the motel that night. In his head, he went over and over the way Cas’ eyes flickered to his lips and back up when he made the dare, the way he said it, not like a command, but a request. Like he was pleading with him, softly.

If Sam didn’t come back that night, he would’ve known how’d Cas’ stubble tasted, how soft his lips were. 

Dean dreamed of what he would dare Cas to do next.

First he would tell him to take off that fucking trench coat. That thing was glued on tight to him. Why did he wear it all the time anyway? Ask him or not, that coat would be the first thing to go. Dean would take the initiative, pulling himself onto Cas’ lap as he kissed him. Cas would be breathing hard, Cas would hold him closer, Cas would have said his name when Dean dropped his mouth to Cas’ neck, leaving a trail of wet, alcohol induced kisses. None of it would matter though, it would be so good. So good to stop waiting, denying that part of himself. The self that  _ wanted  _ Cas and in that dream, just for a second he would be getting it. Dean would’ve felt Cas growing erection and he’s want to start moving his hips, slowly, just enough to-

“Dean.”

But just when it was getting into the good part, Dean heard Sam’s voice. He tried to ignore it but Dean is pushed in a second away from Cas and into his shitty reality.

“Hey. Bobby called. Said he has a job for us,” Sam said.

“Ow,” Dean replies. His head pounded. He felt sick.

“You drank a lot last night.”

“Really?”  _ I can’t tell. _

“Yeah. How you feelin’?”

_ Fuck you.  _ “Peachy.”

Sam’s stupid grinning face was above him. Dean wanted to punch it, but he couldn’t find strength enough in his arms. The room tilted even though he was lying down. 

Dean groaned. “Remind me to never drink again.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Sam turned away. He knew it was an empty threat. Dean would probably drink himself silly that night, if he gets the chance. “Get up, Sleeping Beauty, it’s almost noon.”

Dean’s surprised Sam let him sleep in so long. He must’ve taken pity on him, plus the fact they couldn’t catch a break. Recently it seemed like the world was out to get them. Go to the future, Dean, see how much you screw up. Go hunt down this archangel, almost die in the process because of how much you piss him off. That’s not definitely not going to bite him in the ass later. 

Dean slowly sat up from his facedown position. He stopped when he was upright to wait for the room to stop spinning. 

“Do we have to?” Dean said, sounding a little whiny, but who can blame him. “We just got done with a case last night.”

Sam was packing up his stuff at the foot of his bed. “Well, yeah, but it sounds pretty freaky. Guy turns old overnight.”

“Old as in Big old or Forever Young old?”

“You watched Forever Young?”

“It was a good movie, sue me.”

Sam laughed and shrugged. “He was fit as a fiddle until last night. I don’t think the coroner knows what to make of it.”

“We’ll figure it out for him.”

Dean rose to go the bathroom. Once he closed the door he turned to the mirror and discovered a dick drawn onto his left cheek, courtesy of Sam.

“Goddammit,” he muttered under his breath, thankful it wasn’t Sharpie. He washed it off with some water and put a mental reminder in his brain to pummel Sam. It must’ve been one of the dares from last night.

Dean’s stomach jolted when he remembered Cas’ dare, but he couldn’t remember very much after that. Damn, he had drank a lot.

When Dean exited the bathroom, Sam was ready to go, waiting for him. 

“Enjoy your gift?” he said, smile as wide as a mile.

“Shut up,” Dean grumbled.

“Hey, it was on a dare. I wanted to see you get a tattoo, but you were drunker than some floozie in the back. No one would’ve taken you, the state that you were in. That option was cheaper, too. Trust me, I’ve never seen Cas laugh so hard though. It wasn’t much but he still got a kick out of it.”

Great, now Dean had it in his sights: him, drunker than a doornail catching Cas’ eye while Sam drew a fucking dick on his face was humiliating. Dean would’ve cringed, but he laughed instead. 

“I distinctly remember you had to make a call.”

“It wasn’t that bad.”

“Oh, I think it was hilarious. Who was it again?”

“Sarah. Right, she’s never talking to you again.”

It was the last coherent thought from the night, Dean daring Sam to call the last girl on his hit list, telling her he’s pregnant, and then hanging up. Dean was counting on Sam never backing down from a dare, and boy did he deliver. It was too bad the rest of the night dissolved into giggles. Dean couldn’t remember a thing after that. 

“What happened after that?” Dean asked casually, walking over to his duffel and snagging a few pieces of clothes that were comfortable in the car. 

“You don’t remember? Well, jesus, you were shitfaced when I got there, so I guess you wouldn’t remember.”

“Remember what?” Dean said uneasily. Why did he feel like he was going to hurl? 

Dean grabbed some socks as he was met with Sam’s smirking silence. 

“Sam, cut it out. What happened?”

Sam just shook his head and laughed at him. “It’ll come to you.”

Sam wouldn’t tell him no matter how much he was pestering. It didn’t help he wasn’t up to snuff. Sam watched the end of the 11 o’clock news while Dean took a shower and tried not to think about his dream. It helped that his insides wanted to be on his outsides. Sam offered to drive. 

“Because,” he said. “You look like shit.”

“Come on, you gotta tell me,” Dean said 20 minutes into their drive. He rubbed his neck, sore from the sleep he decided on the night before.

Sam shook his head. “You really want to know?”

“Yes I really want to know, Mr. Bean. So spill.”

“Okay. One, that was really bad. And two, I’m not sure you want to know.”

“What do you mean?” Dean had a sinking feeling in his stomach. 

“Dean you were more drunk than I’ve seen you in a while. You sang along to four verses of I Want My Money Back then I saw you take two more shots. You were a machine.”

Dean had been trying to forget how scared he was when Cas said those words. His plan obviously had backfired.

“Jesus, what did I do?”

“Nothing, you just found everything funny. I didn’t know you could be a happy drunk. You sure can air guitar.”

“Ugh.” Dean could hardly hear over the pounding of his head. At least it wasn’t worse than hell, but it came pretty close. 

“Why’d you let me take so much?”

“I mean, there was no stopping you. You and Cas had to have a drinking contest.”

“Oh, yeah. Did Cas really drink that thing?”

“Yeah. He downed it. Said it didn’t effect him, but Jimmy sure seemed pink.”

Could angels get drunk? Cas might’ve been lying. Maybe high-end tequila could do something to your liver not even an angel could keep up with. Maybe Cas didn’t want-

“Of course that was after I made you kiss him.”

“WHAT?!” Dean shouted so loud, Sam swerved.

“Jesus, Dean!”

“I kissed Cas?”

Dean felt himself panic, but he tried to gain his composure. “Why didn’t I just take the shot?”

“You tell me.”

“What are you, a sorority girl? I can’t believe you did that!” He couldn’t have been more humiliated in his life. 

“Oh, come on, man. I was running out of ideas.”

“So you decided I get to make out with a dude?”

“You’re the one that looked like you enjoyed it!”

“Grow up, Sam.”

“I mean it, Dean. You were all tongue. Do people really like that?”

Dean noticed he didn’t say “girls”. He was angry. Not only at Sam, but also with the fact Dean missed their first kiss. That dream felt pretty real though...

“Look, I was drunk, okay? It didn’t mean anything.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Dean refused to talk about it from then on out. Every time Sam would even think about mentioning it, Dean would either shout expletives or punch Sam very hard in the arm. Sam learned to keep his mouth shut about it. It wasn’t hard, considering they had a bigger and bigger fish to fry as the weeks went on.

The next time he sees Cas, it’s in TV land.

He didn’t say anything about the kiss.  _ Of course he didn’t say anything about the kiss, he was fighting through hell just to get to us. _

Still, every time he saw him, whether it was in a Japanese game show or a cheesy 90’s sitcom, Dean still had to wonder: what did Cas think? Dean had been too drunk to stand, it wasn’t like he had even kissed the real thing. Had he wanted it? Cas did dare him to, but… he could’ve just been playing the game. 

That stupid game, why did he ever suggest it?

But Dean couldn’t ignore the playfulness he saw in the angel’s eyes whenever he said dare when he was supposed to say truth, like his last dare alone together was the one it all came down to. Like it was inevitable.

Dean guessed it was inevitable because Sam dared them to.

He had to wonder if other things were inevitable too.

Cut to their last night on earth.

Sam sighed. “It’s gotta be a trap, right?”

Dean smiled. “Sam Winchester, having trust issues with a demon. Well, better late than never.”

“Yeah, and thank you again for your continued support.”

“You’re welcome.” They clinked beers. Dean took a long sip, hand tightening on the map he was holding. “And, you know, trap or no trap, if we got a snowball’s chance, we got to take it right?”

“...Yeah, I suppose.” Sam shrugged.

“Besides, I’m not sure it  _ is  _ a trap. Check it out.” Dean shuffled some papers around, setting aside the map. “Carthage is lit up like a Christmas tree with Revelations omens. And look at this. There’s been six missing persons’ reported in town since Sunday.” Dean gave Sam a look and picked up his beer. “I think the Devil’s there.”

Sam looked at the evidence. “Okay.”

“Look, when you think about it…” Dean looked up at Sam. “...You can’t come with.”

Sam’s eyes looked towards the heavens. “Dean…”

“Look, I go against Satan and screw the pooch…” Dean made a face. “Okay. We’ve lost a game piece. That, we can take.” He pointed at Sam. “But if  _ you’re _ there… then we are handing the Devil’s vessel right over to him. That’s not smart.”

“Since when have we done anything smart?”

Dean’s eyes flickered over to Cas in the kitchen with Jo and Ellen. 

“I’m serious Sam.”

“So am I,” Sam said, a little angry. “Haven’t we learned a damn thing? If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it  _ together. _ ”

Dean shared a long look with his brother, contemplating if they were doing the right thing. He sighed. “Okay. That’s a stupid friggin’ idea.”

Dean looked past Sam at the back of Castiel’s head. Sam followed his gaze to look at Jo, who was getting up from the table to get another drink.

“Boy. Talk about stupid ideas.”

Dean's eyes snapped to Jo, the one he should’ve been looking at, the curve of her ass was looking defined in her jeans… He couldn’t help but stare. 

Last night on earth… “Good god. True that.” He got up from behind Bobby’s desk. 

Dean didn’t mean to corner Jo against the fridge. It just sort of...happened. He could feel Cas’ eyes on the back of his neck.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” she said back.

“So…” Dean turned, careful to look away from Cas. “Dangerous mission tomorrow. Guess it’s time to… eat, drink, and… you know… make merry.”

Jo raised her eyebrows. “Are you giving me ‘the last night on earth’ speech?”

“What?”

“What?”

“No,” Dean laughed nervously. “No. If I  _ was  _ would, uh… w-would that work?”

Jo’s smile slowly crept on her face. She sat her beer down on the counter next to her. She turned to him, her gaze suddenly laser focused on him. 

Jo suddenly wrapped her arms around Dean, bringing him close until their noses touched, he poised his lips to take her in. 

She suddenly pulled back. “No. Sweetheart, if this is our last night on earth, then I’m gong to spend it with a little thing called ‘self-respect’.” Jo laughed at him, then turned away.

“If you’re into that kind of thing,” he said after her. Dean sips his beer, catching Cas’ piercing blue eyes across the kitchen. He had to look away. 

“Everybody, get in here!” Bobby called from inside his study.

Dean was certain he was going to die tomorrow.

The whole night had that kind of feel. Ellen and Bobby took turns telling old hunting stories, Dean and Sam had good ones of their own, but Jo surprised everyone with a retelling of hunting a poltergeist with an affinity for death by cake.

“It would suffocate it’s victims with cake.”

“There’s no friggin’ way that’s real,” Dean said

“I’m serious! It’s the perfect murder weapon inside a bakery.” 

After they laughed, talked, and drank like their lives depended on it and for the first time, Dean felt like this was his family. They now had a picture of all of them together, hanging up on Bobby’s mantle.

One by one, their little party drifted off to sleep. First it was Bobby, saying he needed his beauty sleep, then it was Sam, surprisingly. Ellen and Jo stayed up to play quarters, but then, they too said they got tired and left. 

Soon it was just Dean and Cas plunking coins into shot glasses. It was nice. Quiet. Cas didn’t say anything at first, and neither did Dean. There was only the sound of quarter hitting table, sometimes just missing the glass. 

Dean could feel the tension between them, running hot and complete like a fish on a hook. He felt it in the kitchen when he was talking to Jo and he certainly felt it now. He was thinking about what Cas said. 

Cas’ quarter in the glass made a sparkling sound throughout the room. Cas looked up at Dean. 

“I think that means you drink,” he said, deadpan. 

A corner of Dean’s mouth twitched. “Yeah, I guess your right.”

He took the bottle of Jack Daniels set aside and gave himself a pour. Ellen had bought it special for tonight, with some of Bobby’s cash, of course. The team had gone to town with it, leaving only a fifth for him and Cas to finish off. Dean figured it wouldn’t take too long.

“Dean, what are you doing?”

“Let’s play for shots, Cas.”

“I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“Humor me,” Dean chuckled as he threw back the shot. The whiskey had a acrid burn that made its way to the back of his throat.

“You’re blood alcohol level-”

“Cas. It’s fine. Last night on earth, remember?”

Dean was already feeling the effects of tonights banter. It felt so good to laugh, but mostly, it felt good to be drunk again, just to let the ocean waves wash up around him again. It was comforting, that’s the feeling when he kissed Cas or must’ve felt. He wished he could remember.

Dean was currently lulling in a high point of the night. His heart thudded in his chest like he knew what was coming.

“Are you sure you can handle it?” Cas said. 

“Let’s find out.” Dean grinned at him as he poured shots into two glasses. “Was I really that bad the other night?”

“You certainly didn’t win our drinking contest.”

“Oh, come on. You’re an angel. It’s not my fault I don’t have Superman’s liver.” Dean cleared his throat. “I think I held up pretty well.”

“I don’t think you were feeling well the next morning.”

“Yeah, the next morning was shit,” Dean laughed. His quarter bounced. “Sorry, about the… um, you know.”

Cas frowned. “The what?”

“Sam told me. The… when we… you don’t remember?”

“Oh, do you mean when we, um, “swapped saliva”, as Sam called it.”

Dean tilted his head, “Yeah, let’s go with that.” He bounced a quarter. Missed.

“I wasn’t comfortable with doing it-,” Cas said.

_ Oh. _

“-Because it seemed you were well into your blackout.”

Oh.

“...How do you know I blacked out?”

“It was at a point where you were slurring more than 45% of your speech and had to urinate frequently. You were also in a very good mood.” Cas held the quarter between his two fingers. “How much did you remember? About that night.” He bounced the coin. It hit the glass and went flying.

_ Kiss me. _

“Not much,” Dean lied.

Did Sam know he had been repeating a dare? He must’ve known something before he went to bed. He definitely gave him a look that couldn’t have across anything different than  _ be careful, dumbass.  _ But Dean thought it had to have been about Jo, at the time. Dean cursed to himself. Of course Sam knew. He must’ve caught him staring.

Like he was doing right then. Cas was meeting his gaze, but didn’t say anything. Dean tore himself away, and bounced another quarter. Missed again.

It wasn’t like he could help it. Cas picked a good vessel, but there were things Dean caught himself looking at that was purely Cas. The way he’d smile, slowly. How his blue eyes scanned him, looking to make things right, how he could command attention to the room, how he curious about things,  _ human  _ things. The way he looked at Dean.

_ Oh, God. _

He was very, stupidly, amazingly, fucking in love with Castiel.

Clink. Cas’ quarter landed neatly in the shot glass in front of Dean. 

“I think that’s my 102 to your 39,” Cas said through a small smile. “You have to drink again.” 

Dean wanted to grab him across the table. Maybe not so forcefully, but slowly at first, maybe grab his tie that Cas was dangling over the table, leaning forward victoriously. Then he’d pull him ever so slightly towards him until his lips would catch with his own.

Dean wordlessly threw back the shot closest to him. It went down easy, which was never a good sign. His chest had a pleasant warmth to it, but he didn’t think it was from the alcohol. His brain felt like it was buzzing happily along. 

“Well, even though you were inebriated, the experience wasn’t...unpleasant.”

Dean’s heart sped up again. “Oh, yeah?” He wanted to lean forward, wanted to, but didn’t. Cas was close, so tantalizingly close. He wanted to take his beautiful face and stroke the hair on the back of his head. They were alone, no one would see.

He leaned back, instead. “Was I the best you’ve ever had?” Dean teased him.

“You’re the only one,” Cas said, surprisingly. “...I’ve had, I mean.

Dean took a sip of his beer. “Really? I thought… that girl in Waterville…”

“No. You were the first.”

Dean hadn’t been somebody’s first in a long time. “No way I was the first,” Dean said softly. “You’ve been around longer than the dinosaurs.”

“I was around longer than that.”

“My point is, I can’t be your first. You’ve never clowned with any of your halo friends?”

Cas shook his head. “We did not play truth or dare in heaven, no.”

Dean swallowed. His back slowly came off of the chair. Cas was like the sun, he couldn’t help falling back into his orbit. He fell inextricably forward, towards Cas. “Right. You know I never finished that dare you gave me.”

“Which one was that?” Cas asked.

“I…” Dean’s brain short-circuited. Cas’ face was inches from his own. The world was spinning. “Need another beer.”

Cas’ eyes flitted from his lips. He leaned back, quietly disappointed. Dean blinked before he remembered what he said. He unsteadily rose from his chair, swaying towards the fridge. 

Dean let the heat flush to his face as he thought what he was being in front of Cas. 

_ What the hell am I doing?  _ He asked himself as he opened the fridge. Dean shakily grabbed a beer. He shouldn’t have... He didn’t want-

He slammed the fridge door and turned around.

Cas had gotten up from the table. He stood in front of Dean, eyes wild, mouth open.

“Dean, I-“

Cas’ words cut off as Dean fell forward, catching the rest on his tongue. Cas tasted like the whiskey they had been drinking. He moved with Dean, supporting him, until Dean found himself upright, then against the fridge. Dean’s beer fell on the hardwood floor with a crack.

Lips, tongue, teeth, moans, Cas, Cas, Cas. Dean’s heart thudded against his chest in time with their movements, heat rising from his stomach slowly. He never kissed someone so deeply, wanted someone so bad. Dean nipped at Cas’s bottom lip. His hands found Cas’ hips, telling him his want for friction. He was surprised how much control he had, even though Cas was the one that had him backed up against a wall. The fridge leaned back when Cas pressed into him. Deans fingers slid up his back and tangled in Cas’ black hair; he felt his stubble scratching his chin. Cas felt good. Cas was beautiful.

Dean suppressed a shiver against him as Cas ran his tongue against his own. Dean breathed him in, taking in every inch-

“Oh.”

They hastily fell apart as soon as Ellen’s voice came from across the room. Cas turned and took a step back from Dean. The air wooshed leaving him alone with Ellen. 

Dean was red in the face, breathing heavily, looking absolutely debauched.

Ellen stood there for a moment in surprise. She redirected quickly with a smirk and crossed arms.

“Really, boy? Are you that desperate tonight?”

“Ellen. Hi.”

“Just what do you think you're doing with that angel?”

“Um… I was.. we were just-“

“Just remember to keep it down, Dean, so I don’t accidentally shoot you.” Ellen gestured at him. She turned and left to go back to her room, shaking her head. Dean watched her go, then immediately went to the table and killed the last of the Jack.

  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

Dean was falling apart.

He walked out underneath the cool expanse of stars walking next to the Impala out in Bobby’s driveway. The silence bounced off the rusted cars and scrap metal, Dean shuffling his feet forward against the pavement, head swimming.

Sam was in the panic room, Famine making him crawl back to demon blood like a relapse. He was sweating it out at that moment, his screams echoing off the iron walls inside. Dean couldn’t stand his baby brother’s cries, not again. He couldn’t stand seeing what the blood did to Sam, made him something he wasn’t; not exactly a psychic but something much more...evil than that. Demonic. He hated Famine’s power, made the desire so strong in Sam that they literally had  _ to cuff him. _ But what Dean was really afraid of, was how powerful Sam was when he got enough of that stuff. Dean would always remember that look Sam had when he stepped into that diner. Blood had covered his mouth, a wild look in his eyes. A junkie that finally got enough of their fix. Dean had stepped forward after it was over, looking for nothing that could be mistaken for anything but terrified. Sometimes it made sense why Lucifer would want Sam as a vessel. He was always supposed to protect his brother. And now he felt him slipping away as the world’s deadline drew nearer.

Ellen and Jo were dead. Gone. He had gotten to the point where he didn’t immediately remember that they were dead and that they, he and his brother, were the ones that killed them. Dean felt guilty every time he forgot, pushing both feelings deep inside him until he could get up in the morning, and start his day.

Cas wouldn’t talk to him. Wouldn’t look at him. He didn’t know why. It was infuriating, trying to get a straight answer. He hadn’t since they’d kissed in Bobby’s kitchen. Cas didn’t come back that night. But Dean still woke with the feeling that he missed something. 

Cas’ eyes never found Dean’s. The angel would only look at Sam or the floor when he spoke. Their last conversation was the only one where Dean actually felt the angel’s eyes on him. But it was Dean that wouldn’t look at him this time after he saw him appear in the corner of his eye next to the panic room door. He didn’t turn to face him- couldn’t, not really. He closed his eyes and took a sip from his whiskey bottle he found upstairs. He’d pay Bobby back later if he had a problem with it, but what he needed right now was a sweet release. Dean’s lifelines were pulled taut in every direction. Sure, they defeated the hoseman, an impossible task, even for them. But there were still two to go. Dean was pretty sure they wouldn’t get as lucky a third and fourth time. How much would this fight take from them? How much were they going to lose before heaven and hell released the nukes? How much more could Dean take? The tightest string was connected to Cas. He thought the kiss would’ve released some of the tension between them, but he still felt it and it was worse than before. Dean was sure he could sense something like sadness coming from him, the other times he spoke. But in that moment, outside the panic room, he realized it was white hot anger. Dean discovered this and was too tired to try to figure out what he did wrong. His brother called for him and Cas. Sam melted into screams.

“That’s not him in there. Not really.”

“I know.”

“Dean, Sam just has to get it out of his system. Then he’ll be-”

“Listen, I just, uh… I just need to get some air.” He couldn’t stand it. Everything was crashing down around him and he couldn’t stop anything.

All the while Dean was dying inside.

He tried taking another drink, cold air touched his skin, but the bottle of whiskey never found his lips. Dean couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. He felt tears cloud his eyes. He never wanted this. 

He looked towards the sky, towards the stars, towards God, towards anything. Dean Winchester broke, bottle hanging limply at his side. 

“Please,” he whispered. “I can’t… I need some help. Please?”

He wanted anyone to come and explain it to him. What his life was supposed to look like? Surely, it wasn’t this, with him not dying all at once, but slowly. Famine was right. He was empty. He hadn’t felt anything while under his power. 

Why couldn’t he feel anything? 

Dean let the tears fall, not bothering to wipe them away. 

The sound of wings behind him made his blood run cold.

No.

“...Dean.”

“I wasn’t praying to you, Cas.”

The angel was silent behind him.

Not  _ him. _

“You were praying to someone.”

Dean sighed and turned around. To tell him to fuck off. He was prepared to stare face to face with Cas, but Cas’ eyes weren’t pointed towards him. Infuriatingly, the angel was looking at the ground. Cas’ next words made Dean pause. 

“You don’t remember, do you?”

Cas looked hurt. Shoulders forward, mouth downturned in a slight frown, Dean studied the angel’s furrowed brow. Slowly, Castiel looked up and Dean was once again held breathlessly with those blue eyes. Dean got lost before he realized how angry those eyes were becoming. 

“What are you talking about, Cas?” Dean said nervously.

“Of course you don’t remember,” Cas said flatly. It was like a punch to Dean’s stomach.

“What?”

“You… you always do this…” Cas strode forward, dark clouds storming in his eyes. Dean inadvertently took futile steps back, afraid. Cas suddenly grabbed the bottle of whiskey in Dean’s hand and tossed it aside. It shattered against the pavement.

“You always forget.” Cas grabbed the edges of Dean’s coat, slamming him into the Impala’s driver side door. Dean looked at him dazed, Cas angry in his face. 

“You never remember because of the alcohol! You never remember because you think you’re so empty inside that you drink till you can’t see straight. Is it me?” Cas growled. “Do you want to forget me?” 

Cas’ eyes were pleading with Dean. “Dean, all I wanted was to show you that you’re not worthless! You’re not…” 

“Cas, what happened?” Dean’s voice broke. Did he want to hear the truth?

Cas kissed him, bruisingly, with fury. All life bled out of Dean as he was trapped against the Impala by Cas’ body. His mouth was warm and wet, needy and wanting. Dean bit back, but his body was limp against the side of his car. Cas’ hands gripped Dean tight, pulling his body into his own.

Cas said hot, breathy words against Dean’s mouth, their noses never breaking contact. 

“You told me… You  _ showed  _ me…”

“What did I do, Cas?” Dean mumbled, heart beating against Cas’ chest. 

“Dean…” Cas’ tongue found Dean’s lips and Dean was sorry that he tasted like whiskey. It seemed like whenever he tasted Cas, it was always obscured by the haze of alcohol. Why couldn’t he feel his lips when he was sober, so he could memorize every sensation Cas was making him feel in the moment. Cas moved past Dean's mouth and talked low in the nape of Dean’s neck. Dean felt eyelashes over his skin. “The worst part of Famine’s influence wasn’t the hunger. It was... the craving.” 

Dean let out a small moan when Cas’ teeth found a pressure point. Lust got underneath the hunter’s skin.

“I… wanted you, Dean. I couldn’t stop it. All I could do was eat to distract, but I…”

Dean remembered how the angel had looked devouring burger after burger, always eyes downcast. The anger that had been slowly building over him… Had that just been want? Want for Dean or want for something else? 

In that moment, Dean couldn’t care less if Cas used him or not, if this was just some lingering effects of Famine, it didn’t matter. All Dean wanted was Cas to run his hand through his hair and grip his hips like he was doing now. Condensation dampened Dean’s jacket from the car, but he didn’t care. All Dean wanted to do was stay in Cas’ arms, feel his own hardness rub up against Cas, find his lips again.

Cas once again slipped his tongue in Dean’s mouth and groaned when Dean reciprocated. 

“You… You were  _ praying _ for me. That night. Before...” the angel whispered. Last night on earth. Of course. “You were saying my name.”

Dean had gone to bed that night with a bottle of  _ something  _ in his hands. He remembered now, he was horny and alone. Had he really...?

“When I arrived you were… _ occupied.  _ But you didn’t stop…” Cas said, slowly moving his hips against Dean’s. “You just kept going and then you  _ came _ … My God, Dean, it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.”

Dean sighed against Cas’ stubble with the scene in his head. Had he wanted Cas to interrupt him? Did he pray on purpose? Dean would have been flushed and Cas, in shock while Dean, drunk, came to the appearance of his best friend. 

The tips of Dean’s ears turned pink. He was glad Cas couldn’t see it in the darkness, but another part of him wanted to see Cas as he really was: reddened lips, dilated pupils. Instead, the darkness made everything louder: the panting breaths of Cas and him, the beat of Dean’s heart in his ears, the noises that would wordlessly escape the back of their throats.

Dean bit the lobe of Castiel’s ear. “What happened next?”

“You sat there, unapologetic, staring at me. And then you said you could teach me.”

“Teach me?” Cas had looked at Dean, up and down in one of Bobby’s spare bedrooms. Dean, still basking in the afterglow, hand still on his cock. He stared back at Cas, unabashedly. “Well, if you never kissed anyone before I’m sure you never did anything like this.” Dean raised his chin, as if suddenly it was… like it was a dare.

Cas knew Dean was drunk, but for some reason, he just couldn’t stop staring at the other man. He knew he should go, Dean wasn’t in his right mind. They were going against the  _ devil  _ tomorrow. They were most likely going to die and here was Dean offering himself to Cas. This was a fantasy, one he could live out. His last chance to. Their previous kiss had taken the breath out of the angel, made him want more than he should take. If Dean was sober would he make the same choice?

In the end, the decision was easy. Cas slowly shrugged out of his trench coat. Tonight, he was going to be selfish. Cas felt the guilt sway in him.

Dean’s eyes narrowed, greedily watching his movements as Cas took his coat off. Cas’ jacket was next. He folded it neatly and threw it on the bed, on top of his coat. He felt Dean’s breath hitch when he loosened his tie. Cas paused and considered Dean for a moment. He noticed his grip was tightened and Cas wanted to feel the hardness that was rushing back to Dean. The hunter was slowly unraveling underneath Cas’ gaze. Dean was flushed, come still covering his stomach. Dean looked vulnerable and Cas couldn’t believe how easy it was to get him into that state. He slipped off his tie, Dean’s hand started moving again.

“Slower,” Cas said, hands reaching towards his shirt buttons. Dean stopped then moved more slowly as Cas’ heart hammered in his chest. 

Dean’s eyes raked over him as more of his body was exposed. Dean let out a moan, barely a whisper.

“Cas...” he said. It was another prayer. Cas couldn’t take it anymore. He quickly made work of his shirt then fumbled with his belt all the while Dean sped up again, tugging a little at the base. Cas undid his belt and Dean was at full hardness now.

Cas licked his lips. He technically wasn’t doing anything wrong. He wasn’t crossing a line yet. He inadvertently adjusted his pants. The swelling was starting to get to Cas, tightening watching Dean, his senses overloaded with Dean. They were both watching each other, really. Cas was going slow enough, waiting for Dean to change his mind. But he knew, soon, he wasn’t going to be able to stop himself. Dean raised his eyebrows, anticipating what he would do next.

“Dean,” the angel said suddenly. “You can’t possibly want this.”

Dean stilled, looking at him incredulously. He slid his legs over the side of the bed, in nothing but a t-shirt. Cas tried not to look down but ultimately, failed in doing so. 

Dean reached out and brushed his fingertips to Cas’ stomach. Dean pressed his lips into Cas’, so unlike their last two kisses. It was gentle and unhurried, like Dean was savoring it. Dean pulled back, just a touch, his green eyes soft. “You’re wrong.”

In the shadows of the junkyard, Dean bucked up into Cas’ hand. Dean saw his breath rise from his body, looking up towards the stars. He couldn’t stop moving against Cas in a steady rhythm, a low heat in his gut. He was going to come like a fucking teenager… They were both fully clothed but Dean was convinced he was going to explode any second now.

Cas was busy sucking bruising kisses into Dean’s neck and Dean wishes he could die now, because then, he would be happy.

“Cas…” he breathed. “You gotta stop.” Cas kept nuzzling his neck, but he let up a little bit, working Dean’s sore spot with his tongue. It didn’t help that Dean kept moving his hips.

“You don’t want to,” Cas whispered.

Dean groaned into Cas’ hair, hand tightening in hair. “No, but… I’m gonna come inside my jeans, man.”

“I thought the point of this was orgasming.”

“Not,” Dean panted. “Not out  _ here. _ ”

Cas’ stubble rubbed on the side of Dean’s cheek. “Then where?”

The handle of Baby’s driver side door dug into the back of Dean’s jacket.

Upstairs, Dean took off his shirt while Cas unbuttoned his pants. Dean leaned to far to the side while taking it off- a reminder that Cas didn’t want to see. The line was slowly being crossed. Before Cas could say anything, Dean crowded Cas with another kiss. They both didn’t mind the stickiness as they pressed close to each other, mouths aligning perfectly.

Cas let himself have this, Dean’s mouth moving against his own, running his hands over Dean’s freckles on his back, even though he knew he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t be feeling Dean through the fabric of his pants, he shouldn't be curling his hand around the bottom of his hair, shouldn't  _ want  _ this but he did, God. He wanted Dean so badly, ever since he built him from the ground up. Ever since he saw his soul while Cas was putting him back together. Cas  _ wanted… _

He  _ needed  _ him like humans needed air, like birds needed to fly, like stars needed to burn. 

But…

“Dean…”

Dean pulled away. His eyes were glassy, he looked happy, like he was waiting for this.

“I can’t do this. Not while you’re drunk.”

Dean’s face fell. He chewed the inside of his mouth. “Come on, man,” he smiled, weakly. “You know that doesn’t make a difference.”

“I shouldn’t have… You drank so much tonight. Your speech-”

“Forget that! Cas, you don’t know how much I wanted this. You don’t know how much I love you-”

Cas’ breath hitched, but Dean continued, pressing into him: “You think all those times I’ve been staring at you have been accidents? You don’t know how many times I’ve been thinking about you in all the places I shouldn’t. You don’t think I don’t dream of you-”

Cas couldn’t help but lean forward, couldn’t help but press his body into Dean’s shape. Couldn’t help but kiss him and move and feel his chest against Dean’s.

Dean hooked his fingers in Cas’ belt loops and, without breaking any skin to skin contact, led him forward towards the bed. They both fell, ungracefully on top of each other, but that only made Cas want to kiss Dean harder. He couldn’t waste any more time, couldn’t wait one more second without wanting for Dean to make the face he did when he arrived. He wanted him to make him feel like absolute bliss. Cas pulled on Dean’s hair and rubbed himself on Dean’s thigh.

“Okay, you've got to lose the pants,” Dean said breathlessly.

“Then take them off,” Cas said.

Dean smiled and placed his hands on the inside of Cas’ pants, wiggling them down to his hips revealing boxer briefs. Dean helped him take off his pants one leg at a time. Dean grabbed onto Cas and he felt Dean’s fingers stroke along the waistband of his underwear. Cas kept kissing him like he was the only thing in the world. Cas made a pleasant noise when Dean’s thumb slipped beneath the waistband and circled his hip bone. Dean couldn’t help but touch Cas lightly.

“Is this okay?” he whispered.

Cas groaned. “More than okay.”

Cas moved against Dean’s hand while they made out, slowly, carefully. The friction felt good. Really good. He moved until there was a wet spot forming on the bulge of his boxers. Dean hooked his fingers underneath the underwear. 

“Please,” he begged. “Please. Let me see you. All of you.”

Cas blushed and got up from on top of Dean. He pulled down his briefs, feeling exposed. Cas noticed Dean biting his lip. He stopped once he noticed what he was doing. 

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, man,” he quickly said. “If you’re uncomfortable-”

“I just don’t want to take advantage of you.”

Dean smiled. “I don’t want to take advantage of  _ you, _ ” he said, looking at Cas.

In the Impala, Cas’ kisses came hot, heavy, and fast on top of Dean. Dean relished in it. He loved when Cas pressed him into the leather seats, felt the friction electrifying him in his jeans. Cas’ coat was draped around them like a blanket and nothing could stop Dean from grabbing hold and pulling him closer with it. Dean liked it when Cas kissed him hard, with tongue. He was a good kisser, naturally since he learned it all from Dean. Dean didn’t know where Cas learned how to take off Dean’s pants so efficiently. He unbuttoned quickly, pulling down his pants and his boxers below his dick so that it sprang free. Cas paused, taking in the sight. Dean wondered again if he was just leftover cravings. Cas took Dean in his mouth and suddenly, Dean didn’t care.

“Cas,” Dean said breathlessly. “You don’t have to do that.”

Cas looked at Dean with hungry eyes. He ignored him, running his tongue along Dean’s length. Dean’s hips went up, wanting more. Cas gave him more, gripping him tight, moving his hand where his throat couldn’t reach.

“How the fuck-“ Dean gasped. “Do you know how to give blowjobs?”

Dean sat Cas on the bed, both of them stark naked. They took each other in. 

“If you could touch me,” Dean said. “If I wasn’t… like this. What would you do?”

“I’d trace the insides of your thighs with my tongue,” Cas said, knees touching Dean’s. “I’d kiss your hipbones until you would beg me to kiss your mouth, but I’d kiss your collarbone first, tracing my teeth to bone. You’re so…” Cas’ eyes dragged over Dean’s body.

“What?”

Cas pressed his lips together and smiled. “Beautiful.”

“Oh yeah?” Dean leaned back, flushed but daring. “So you like what you see?”

“Not just that. I can sense a certain aura the soul gives off. Yours is one of the most amazing things I’ve ever seen.”

Dean turned even redder at the compliment. “Thanks, uh, Cas.”

Drunk, Dean leaned forward. “Here, you gotta…” Dean reached for Cas’ erection, his thumb wiping the precome around the head. Dean took Cas’ hand and made him grip around himself. “Now move. There you go…”

Slick with himself, Cas started stroking with Dean’s help. Cas couldn’t take his eyes off Dean, so when Dean looked up all Cas could see was perfection. It was better than Cas imagined. Dean began idly touching himself. Cas felt a deep feeling, pleasant and warm creep from his stomach and throughout his body, Dean started to move himself faster, sensing something overcoming the angel. 

“ _ Cast-” _

Dean felt Cas’ name die in his throat. It was overcame with a moan so filthy that would make John Winchester’s spirit shiver. Dean came all over his upholstery, a toe-curling feeling that would burn in the back of his memory. An angel between his legs, ass against the leather, every second that passed was sharper, clearer, more wonderful than the last one. Cas watched Dean in all his glory. Stars burst behind Dean’s eyes. He came down from that high as soon as he remembered he would have to clean the seats. Dean stared at the roof of the Impala, a mere orgasm made him see the sky in the blackness. Heavy breathing came from both of them.

“Dean, are you alright?” Cas asked.

Dean answered with an ounce of breathy laugh. “Yeah.”

He laughed towards the stars. He just had sex in the back of his car with an angel. Who happens to be wearing someone of the male design. It wasn’t the weirdest thing he’d ever done, but it was up there. 

“I feel different. Like I understand how to be human.” Cas had said. He didn’t know what brought up the words. Maybe it was Dean’s steady breath or Dean’s heart thumping in his chest that gave him the idea. They both lie naked on the bed, Cas’ head on Dean’s chest, hand on his stomach so that he could both feel his breath and his pulse at the same time. 

“Mm. That’s nice,” Dean said, mouth barely forming the words. Cas wondered if Dean was forgetting tonight. Had the alcohol prevented him from making memories? Cas selfishly put the thought to the side. Dean was there. He had chosen him, at least for the night. 

“I love you, Dean,” Cas said. He didn’t care if Dean would remember those words. It was true. But Dean was already asleep.

  
  
  



End file.
